


Ties

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-01
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle attends a wedding. Bodie arrives. Trouble ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Doyle smiled as the beaming couple turned to face their audience, but all he was thinking was thank God that was over and he had only the reception and the bloody speeches to get through. He watched as his cousin Pamela and her new husband Jeremy walked down the aisle, followed by three bridesmaids. Beside him, his Aunt May sniffed, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. As the bridal party cleared the aisle, there was a general push towards the exits. Doyle reached up to loosen the tie constricting his throat.

"Don't you dare, Ray." His mother's voice stilled his hand. "Photographs next."

Doyle turned his head to stare at her. "You are joking."

"You gave the bride away. You're part of the wedding party, dear." Her tone was soft, but the look she gave Doyle was not. She edged past him to put an arm around May's waist.

Doyle sighed. He could almost hear Bodie: _Told you so, mate._ And he could count on Bodie wanting all the details of his humiliation. Bloody wedding. He still didn't know what he'd say at the reception. When Pam had asked him to walk her down the aisle, he hadn't realised all the obligations that entailed. And she had bloody well laughed at him about it. They had always been close, although they rarely met—she was part of this world; he was part of another. But when they were young, she had sneaked food to him when he'd been banished to his bedroom. He had taken her to a dance when her date had failed to show up. He had stood with her at her father's funeral—the only family in attendance. She had come to London when he passed out from Hendon. He wouldn't have missed her wedding, barring disaster or Cowley. And in the end, Cowley had just called Bodie in.

"Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?" He shuffled behind his mother as they edged towards the aisle.

"Like you'd like to commit general mayhem."

"Because after two thousand years of weddings, we still haven't learned how to exit the church without creating a traffic jam."

His mother looked at him. "I wonder about you, sometimes."

He smiled. "Only sometimes?"

" _Frequently_. But I only see you sometimes."

"And that's why it's only sometimes." A gap opened up before them and he nodded towards it.

"Come on, dear," his mother said to May as she urged her forward. "Now _don't_ start that again, remember the photographs are next!"

The three of them made their way slowly to the entrance where the wedding party was being showered with confetti and congratulations. He didn't know most of the people present. He caught a glimpse of his older sister Lucy, looking grim as she hurried to the car park with her youngest son in tow. Doyle had been relieved when Lucy had chosen to sit at the back of the church with her brood. He intended to spend the rest of the day and night avoiding them. The prospect of cake and the twins was enough to make him shudder. He'd rather face Macklin any day.

His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the splendour of party dresses and pressed shirts and trousers. The people chatted with each other; some of them looked happy, others bored. It all appeared normal, no anomalies, no— _You're not on duty, Ray_. Dammit, it was Bodie's voice again. He closed his eyes for a moment. When was the last time he had attended an event like this? Maybe that was why he felt as if he was undercover. He had arrived mid-afternoon the day before, to his mother's surprise and relief. Most of the evening had been taken up with a family dinner, including Jeremy and his parents and brother. He had fielded questions about his work with practiced ease. He'd done his best to fit in. He'd thought of Ann. He hadn't thought of Bodie.

'Sorry, mate,' Bodie had said to him, genuine regret on his face.

Doyle had shrugged. 'It doesn't matter,' he'd replied. But he'd been far less honest than Bodie. It did matter. Because he'd been relieved when Cowley's order to track down an informant had made it impossible for Bodie to come to the wedding with him. When he'd invited Bodie it had been on a whim—and the realisation that he'd have more fun with Bodie along. They faced Macklin together, they could face a wedding together. But that was before—

"Ray."

He blinked, turned his head towards his mother. She had been speaking with Jeremy's mother. He saw the wedding party was gathering again. Pam was shaking confetti from her hair.

"Go and see where David's got to, will you?"

David was Jeremy's brother. Doyle looked around and saw that most of the people were moving slowly towards their cars. He nodded, and headed back into the church.

He'd been more than half asleep that night with Bodie. He'd been too tired to go to bed, too tired to turf Bodie out of his flat. They had gone home after a day and a half on a tense job. The case was wrapped up, no one was injured or dead, but it hadn't felt like much of a success, either. They'd eaten while watching the telly, and then had simply sat there together, making occasional comments, too comfortable to move. He'd found himself leaning against Bodie, and realising that Bodie's arm was around him, and his hand was stroking Doyle's arm. He'd turned and looked at Bodie. Bodie's hand had stilled. And in a moment of madness, Doyle had acted on impulse: he'd kissed him.

Bodie had responded. There had been no stopping them then, no time for reason to intrude. They'd kissed, and they'd humped, and they'd built to a sudden release—over in a flash, but perhaps all the sweeter for that. Doyle had fallen asleep with Bodie lying alongside him. He'd wakened to find himself alone, the TV still on, showing the test card. Neither of them had said anything about it the next day.

There was no obvious sign of David inside the church. Doyle made a quick circuit of the interior, and caught the sound of voices through an archway leading to a side entrance. He followed the voices. David was in a garden by the door, confronted by a dark-haired man in his mid-twenties.

"David." Doyle kept his eyes on the stranger. "You're wanted for photographs."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." David turned towards the entrance.

The other man grabbed David's arm. Doyle tensed, but didn't interfere. "Don't forget," the man said.

David lifted his chin. "I've got to go." He pulled his arm free.

"Is there a problem here?" Doyle asked.

"No." David sent a challenging look towards the other man.

"No," the man agreed, but his eyes were hard.

David walked past Doyle into the church. Doyle stayed where he was. "I'm Doyle."

The dark-haired man's gaze shifted to him briefly, then he turned and walked through the garden to a gate leading to the car park. Doyle frowned and followed David. He knew very little about Jeremy or his family. He had only his impressions of the night before, which were of an ordinary family. Jeremy was a middle manager at Nat West; his father had been a taxi driver before retirement. David, if Doyle remembered correctly, was a mechanic. He was young—around twenty-two. Doyle had paid more attention to Jeremy.

'Are you sure about this?' he'd asked Pam as they'd stood before the church.

'Oh, yes.' Her smile had drawn his own in response.

Whatever was going on with David, it was probably nothing serious, Doyle thought, as he followed David through the church. Certainly it was none of his business. It was easy to grow paranoid when one worked for CI5.

At the church entrance, David was greeted with relief and scoldings. The photographer herded them into place. Doyle smiled when told to, and afterwards escorted his mother and May to the waiting car. Doyle settled the women into the back seat and sat next to the driver. The driver's hands were nothing like Bodie's.

Sod it. He loosened his tie and looked out the window. It was sunny and bright, but not too warm—the perfect day for a wedding, for starting a life together. He'd always preferred to be alone, even with his family. None of them had been surprised when he'd taken off for London. None of them really knew what it was he did in London, although his mother knew he worked for CI5. It had never mattered.

_It doesn't matter._

Two days ago he'd saved Bodie's life. They'd been checking out a house on a tip. They'd found the arms dump. They'd also, belatedly, found an occupant. It was the creak of a floorboard that had saved them. The bullets had struck the wall as they'd both dived for cover. Bodie had regained his feet more quickly than Doyle, and had taken off after the man. Doyle had reached the back door in time to see Bodie slip on a patch of mud and go down. The villain had turned at the garden wall, gun raised. Doyle hadn't been in a good position for a shot, but he'd braced and fired. The two guns had gone off simultaneously; only Doyle's bullet had struck true.

He remembered gulping in air, as if he'd been the one running. He remembered Bodie climbing to his feet, grinning at him. He remembered walking forward and not stopping until he was kissing Bodie. And even then, he'd wanted to climb into him, fuck him, own him—whatever it took to take away the pressure he'd felt, the fear trapped in his chest. But Bodie had calmed him, and then he'd gone down on Doyle, right there in the garden. Thank God there'd been a tall fence, and a brick wall without windows. Thank God he'd killed his man, although at the time he hadn't known that. He'd never lost it like that before—never forgotten about duty or caution. When he'd come back to himself, still dazed, he'd gasped out: 'We can't—we—'

'Don't. It's all right. It doesn't matter. It's just us; just the job. Just today.' He'd believed Bodie. He'd _needed_ to believe Bodie. It was just the job, just the fear, just a reaction. What he had with Bodie existed in their world, because of their world. And that was why he hadn't wanted Bodie with him today.

"It was a lovely wedding, wasn't it?" May sounded anxious, as she often did.

"Yes, it was. Pam is beautiful," his mother replied. The sound of their voices reminded him of his childhood.

"And Jeremy so handsome." May sighed. "He's doing well at Nat West—in line for a promotion."

"Yes, I know. And well deserving of it."

"He'll be good for her. He's got that job, he's secure. Stable." Neither May nor his mother had married stable men.

"Yes."

"I was worried, you know." May's voice was soft, but Doyle heard her. "I wanted so much for her. Love, yes, but...."

"You're her mother. You want her comfort as well as her happiness."

"He has a good heart, Jeremy has. I'm sure of it."

"Me too."

But it was still a gamble in the end, wasn't it? People changed, grew apart. Jobs were lost. His mother had loved his father, but that love had died under the strain of finances and divergent personalities. May's happiness had been lost to her husband's need for drink. There were no guarantees. The closest he'd come to marriage had been Ann. His mother would have welcomed her, but he couldn't imagine them getting on. He knew what Ann would have thought of her and May. He hadn't cared at the time. He'd only known he wanted Ann.

That, too, would never have worked. She hadn't understood his world. He closed his eyes and wished he were in London.

The hotel they were driven to had once been a residence, but had been converted just after the war. He'd booked for two nights into a comfortable room. The reception was in a large room to the left of the main entrance. May joined the bridal party to greet and receive guests. Doyle escaped with his mother into the room. A buffet had been set up along one wall. Tables and chairs were arranged in the middle of the room, with the high table at one end. A live band was already playing music from a variety of eras as people mingled and chose seats.

Doyle followed his mother as she made her way towards the high table. He realised gradually that he knew more of the guests than he had thought. He hadn't recognised them at the church. Pam's childhood friends seemed almost middle-aged to him—settled in their careers and families. Their parents were grandparents. Mrs Gorton from down the road, asked him when he would settle down and marry. He smiled and told her he was married to his job. His mother rolled her eyes.

He excused himself and went to the loo, then out along a corridor to the gardens surrounding the hotel. There were other guests there having a quick smoke before the buffet started. He was just about to go back inside when he caught sight of David walking quickly towards a stand of evergreens. Jeremy was following him. After a moment's reflection, Doyle followed them both.

He heard the sounds of the fight before he cleared the line of trees. He took in the scene quickly: Jeremy was on the ground; David was struggling to escape, but was held fast by one man while another hit him. Two other men hovered nearby. One of them was the dark-haired man from earlier.

"Police. Break it up." Doyle was not at all surprised when one of the men launched himself at him. A surge of adrenaline made him smile, and he put the man down with ease. He grabbed the man who was hitting David and flung him aside, but Doyle stumbled as David was shoved into him. They fell to the ground. When they scrambled to their feet they found a man confronting them with a knife. Doyle edged in front of David, eyeing the knife-wielder. The man attacked him with more determination than skill. Doyle blocked the arc of the knife, but couldn't grab the man's arm. He danced to the side, evaded another swipe of the knife, and got a blow of his own in. The man circled, and Doyle mirrored him. Behind him he heard the sound of a punch connecting, and a grunt, but he couldn't turn to look. He had to take care of the knife-wielder before the others attacked—

There was the sound of another blow behind him. "I'm with him." It was Bodie's voice.

Doyle's head lifted in surprise. The knife man lunged at him. Doyle blocked the move with his arm, but felt the knife slice into him before he was able to grab the man's arm. He kneed him, twisted his arm, and forced him to drop the knife. A chop to the back of the man's neck put him out of action.

"Ray!"

He dropped to the ground as a gun went off. Doyle twisted around and saw Bodie jamming a fist into a man's neck. The man fell, and Bodie took the gun away from him.

Doyle climbed to his feet. "Thanks." All of the assailants were on the ground. David helped Jeremy to his feet.

"I thought you invited me to a wedding." Bodie was dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, and a dark, well-cut jacket. He looked cool but radiated aggression. Doyle had to look away for a moment.

"Yeah. Don't you approve of the entertainment, then?"

"It was a bit one-sided. How's the arm?" Bodie's eyes were on the four men on the ground. Three of them were stirring.

Doyle glanced at his arm, grimacing at the tear in his shirt. At least his jacket seemed to be less damaged. "It'll do." He went to look at the man who had had the gun. "I know him. Vince Mason. Used to run with Ronnie Dey's lot." He turned his head towards David. "What the fuck is this all about?" His eyes moved to Jeremy and narrowed.

"Jeremy's not involved," David said. He looked from Doyle to Bodie and back. "Who are you?"

"CI5," Bodie said. "Ray, let's take this inside."

"Yeah, and call the local nick." He picked up the knife, then looked again at David. "Drugs?"

"No!" David was staring at Doyle. "Pam said...you're a civil servant!"

"I am." He pointed to Mason. "He's an enforcer for a drug dealer." He turned to the other three villains. "Stand up. Slowly." Doyle glanced at David, then gestured at the dark-haired man. "Who's your friend here?"

"Charlie Harris." David looked quickly at Jeremy. "I...I owe him money."

Bodie was looking at the man who had wielded the knife. "You. What's your name, sunshine?"

"Bennett," the man mumbled. He rubbed his neck with one hand. His expression was sullen.

"Bennett." Bodie smiled. "You tried to puncture my partner."

"I wish I had done."

"No. You don't. You and him", he pointed to the man standing next to Harris. "Take Mason inside." Bodie looked at Harris. "You lead the way."

With Bodie herding the men, Doyle fell into step beside David and Jeremy. "Money for what?"

David looked at the ground.

"Gambling," Jeremy said. "That's it, isn't it?" There was a bruise already starting to form on the right side of his face. "Isn't it, David?"

"Yes."

"How much this time?" Jeremy grabbed David's arm. "How much?"

"A couple of grand!" David shook Jeremy off.

Doyle frowned. "That's not enough for this kind of reaction."

"Oh look," Bodie said, "here comes hotel security."

Doyle saw a large man hurrying towards them. "A bit lax—should've heard that gunshot."

"Probably thought it was a car misfiring." Bodie stopped the procession and dug out his ID.

The security man was frowning as he reached them. "What's the meaning of—"

"Bodie. CI5." He held out his ID. "We need a room, the police, and a first aid kit."

"But—" The man's eyes roamed over the group, widening at sight of Jeremy.

"Now. Before my partner loses any more blood."

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Mr...?" Doyle hesitated, eyebrows raised.

"Parsons."

"Parsons. If you would contact the police—"

"They've already been called."

"Then it might be a good idea to clear the area before we cause any more disruption to the reception."

"I'll take care of it." He turned, then hesitated. "Do you need any help...?"

"No, thank you. Just a room where we can wait for the police."

"And the bloody first aid kit," Bodie added.

Parsons nodded and hurried away.

"What else are you into, David?" Jeremy's voice was hard.

"Nothing! I swear! Just the...just the gambling." David looked away, then back at Jeremy. "I...I gave Charlie your rings, just to tide me over. Had to get them back, didn't I?"

"What?" Jeremy stared at David.

Doyle nodded. "And he wouldn't give them to you, so you stole them, is that it?"

"Last night. But I didn't expect—" He broke off. "Jeremy, I promise, I don't know what this is about."

Doyle exchanged a glance with Bodie. "Did they say anything to you? Before the hitting started, I mean."

"They said something about...a key. I don't know what they were on about."

"Shut up, David, you fuck—" Harris gasped as Bennett kicked him.

"The next one who moves gets a bullet. Do I make myself clear?" Bodie's tone was mild, but the four men settled down.

"A key," Doyle said. Were the rings in a box?"

David's brows drew together. "Yes—jesus."

"Where is it?"

David put a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a ring box. He handed it to Doyle.

Doyle examined the box, prodded and poked, and eventually uncovered a numbered key. He held it up. "The police will want this."

"Go on, back to the hotel," Bodie said to the four men. They moved forward. Doyle and the others followed. "What do you reckon, Doyle? Railway station? Bus?"

"Something. It's not our problem, thank God." Now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade, he noticed his arm was aching.

When they arrived at the hotel, they were directed to a lounge usually used for afternoon tea. The security man had done his job and they saw no one other than hotel staff. The police arrived soon after and took the four men away, along with David and the key. Jeremy asked the security man to bring Pam to the room.

"Right," Bodie said, as the police cleared the room. "Let's see the damage, sunshine."

Doyle eased out of his jacket and bloodied shirt. "This is ruined."

"Didn't make very good armour, did it?" Bodie took hold of Doyle's arm. The cut was long but shallow. "You're lucky this didn't nick a vein."

"Bled enough." Doyle was still looking at the shirt.

The door opened and Pam was ushered into the room. She paused when she saw Doyle's arm, but he waved her over to Jeremy, who sat in an arm chair. She perched on the arm, and gently touched his bruised face. "It's a good thing we've already taken the photographs."

Jeremy hooked an arm around her waist. "I'm sorry. It was David. He's—"

"Family. Yes." She glanced at Doyle. "I know how that can be."

"Oi!" Doyle protested. Then he winced as Bodie cleaned his arm with an alcohol wipe. "Ow."

"You'll live," Bodie said. He set about putting steri-strips across the cut.

"Thank you for that brilliant prognosis."

"Who is he?" Pam asked.

"My partner. Bodie."

Her eyes widened. "Partner?"

To his fury and astonishment, Doyle felt something like a blush rise. "We work together."

"In the civil—"

"He's CI5," Jeremy told her.

"C—" She stopped and stared at Doyle. "You little bugger. Oh, yes, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

Doyle screwed his eyes shut. He knew Bodie was grinning, dammit.

"Where are your guns, then?"

Doyle opened his eyes and glared at her. "I didn't bring a gun to your wedding."

"Well, apparently you should have." She glanced at Jeremy. "Just look at him."

Doyle grinned. "Baggage."

"Berk." She eyed Bodie. "I'm Pam."

"I'm pleased to meet you. Congratulations." Bodie wrapped Doyle's arm in a tight bandage.

"We need to get back to our guests." Jeremy stood, drawing Pam up with him. "Thank you both. When I saw David...." He trailed off.

"You were trying to help."

"Not that I was much use."

"It's our job," Doyle said. "Go on. They must be wondering in there."

Pam nodded. "Oh, they are. I'll see there's a place for Bodie at the table." She smiled again. "Debbie and Sandra are going to fight over him, you know." She and Jeremy left the room.

"Debbie and Sandra?" Bodie put the finishing touches on the bandage.

"Bridesmaids. Single." Doyle tilted his head. "They will eat you up."

"At the moment, I'm more interested in the buffet. There is a buffet?"

"Of course." He watched Bodie pack up the first aid kit. "Where did you spring from?"

"I found Gresham first place I looked. It left me with enough time to come up here. Missed the wedding, though."

Doyle shrugged. "Reception's the best part. I'd say it was good timing all around."

"Yeah." Bodie picked up Doyle's shirt. He frowned. "Want me to see if the hotel has another—?"

"No." Doyle stood and reached for his jacket. "This will cover it." The jacket sleeve was slightly torn but it would hold well enough for the wedding. At least the blood stains didn't show on it.

Bodie helped Doyle ease into his shirt and jacket.

"Come on, let's feed you, hero."

"Champers and cake?"

"I should hope so." Doyle eyed his discarded tie.

"Yes, you have to wear it." Bodie placed the tie around Doyle's neck. "You can untie it after your speech."

"My mother will like you."

"They all do, my son." Bodie's eyes were on the cloth as he tied it. "Do you want me here, Ray?"

Doyle's stomach tightened. "Of course." He touched Bodie's hand, and hoped he was believed.

After a moment, Bodie nodded, and finished with the tie.

They walked to the reception room and took their place in line for the buffet. Doyle intercepted several curious glances, and heard 'CI5' murmured, but no one approached them about it directly. Still, he realised, he felt more relaxed—as if he had stepped into his own skin again. He knew who he was, even if they didn't. Bodie was delighted with the buffet, and piled his plate high with vol au vents, roast chicken legs, mini sausage rolls, and quiche. They made their way to the head table and found that Bodie had been placed next to Doyle, with Doyle's mother next to him. Aunt May was on Doyle's other side. She seemed a bit breathless when she spoke with him, her eyes wide. He tried to hear what Bodie and his mother were chatting—and laughing—about, but no joy. He nudged Bodie with his leg.

"Not here, Ray," Bodie said to him in soft but scandalised accents.

"Don't be an idiot. What are you going on about with my mum?"

"Your youthful misdeeds."

"Bodie—"

"Don't worry, I'm not telling her about your current misdeeds."

Doyle eyed him. Bodie eyed him back. Doyle looked down at his plate.

After a moment, Bodie said, "Who's the woman over there, looks like she could be Cowley's mother?"

"Wha—?" But Doyle had no trouble picking out the woman in question. "Mrs Gorton. Neighbour. Used to terrify us when we were kids."

"Us? You and Pam?"

"And Lucy—my sister." Doyle looked around.

"Ah, would that be the woman giving us a fishy stare?"

"Sounds like her." Doyle located his sister, her husband, and her children. "Yeah. She probably thinks we're—" He broke off, changed what he was about to say in a flash. "Dangerous. She wouldn't approve of CI5."

"Well, we are." Bodie leaned closer to Doyle. "What would she think if I kissed you?"

For a second, Doyle froze, but his voice was normal when he managed to speak. "Hey, there's an idea. She'd never bother me about seeing her kids again."

"Almost worth it, eh?"

This time he held Bodie's gaze when their eyes met. "Behave."

Bodie smirked, and turned back to Doyle's mother. Aunt May was still talking with Pam, so he concentrated on his food. Mum, he was sure, would be asking Bodie about their work. He had always emphasised the mundane aspects of the job on the few occasions when she had asked. Well, he could trust Bodie there. He was more likely to tell her outrageous, humourous stories than the truth. Today's action wouldn't disabuse her—any policeman might have handled that situation. The gun was unusual, admittedly, but the police had taken it away. Bodie, he knew, wasn't carrying—although Doyle would bet both their guns were in the Capri.

Pam leaned forward. "Ray, what do you think of the smoked salmon?" Her eyes pleaded with him.

"It's excellent. Don't you agree Aunt?" His own eyes told Pam just how deep in his debt she was getting herself. She grinned and turned to Jeremy.

"Well, I was just telling Pam, I think we might have made a mistake there. Everyone has smoked salmon, and—"

"Ah, but tradition is important, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—"

"And it was the perfect wedding. Lovely day for it."

"You haven't eaten your smoked salmon."

"I'm saving the best for last."

She gave him a disbelieving look.

He grinned. "You should be enjoying yourself, you know." As he gazed at her he had the odd sensation of seeing both the young girl he had never known, and the woman who was nearly as familiar to him as his own mother. She too, perhaps, had a world he knew little about. She had raised Pam on her own, with few resources. It was only now he was beginning to understand how difficult it must have been. He watched as her expression changed.

"You are absolutely right." She reached for her wine glass. "Cheers."

He clicked his own glass against hers.

"So Ray, have you thought of what you're going to say in your speech?'

He choked and set his glass down hastily—playing up his supposed surprise.

"The father of the bride speech," she explained helpfully.

"I'm not—"

"The _traditional_ father of the bride speech. Tradition is important, you know."

"But—"

"Especially given that there is now no best man here, so you're going to have to do for both." The expression in her eyes was far too knowing.

Fuck. He had a sudden, sinking feeling.

She smiled, and again he saw something of the girl in her. "Eat your salmon, dear."

He turned back to his food. He had known he would have to make a speech. He had planned something brief about Pam, but now.... He'd have to toast them, toast the bridesmaids, wish them well—

Bodie leaned towards him. "What's wrong?"

"I have to make a speech."

"Yes, I've been looking forward to that."

Doyle glared at him.

"There you go. Do that and they'll be putty in your hands."

"Do you know any good jokes?"

"There once was a—"

"Never mind. Here." He passed his plate to Bodie. "Eat my salmon."

All too quickly it became apparent that the appropriate moment had arrived. Taking in a deep breath, Doyle stood and tapped his knife against his glass. Gradually conversations quieted, and it seemed as if hundreds of eyes were fastened on him. He thought wistfully about declaring an emergency evacuation, but cleared his throat instead.

"Thank you. I, uh, am not the father of the bride. I was only three when Pam was born. But I remember my first impression of her: she cried. A lot. I couldn't see what use she was, to be honest." He sent a smile Pam's way. "But then sometime later, she started following me around. And little by little I realised she was perfectly willing to explore the bombed out buildings we were forbidden to enter. Or join in hunts for snails and toads. Or see if we could really dig a hole all the way to the other side of the world. I taught her how to play football and how to throw a punch—sorry Jeremy. She taught me how to—em—dance." He ducked his head as a snicker went around the room. "And she taught me the value of lifelong friendship. She will never lose me, nor I her." Doyle paused as he neared the end of what he had planned to say. The expectant silence seemed deafening. Instinctively, he looked at Bodie—the man who protected his back. A steady gaze from blue eyes settled him—like a touch on his arm in a firefight. "Our paths have diverged since then. My...partner in crime found new companions and other interests. Three of these long-time friends are with her today, bearing witness to her marriage." He raised his glass. "In honour of friendship, I give you Sandra, Debbie, and Rose." The bridesmaids were duly toasted. "And now Pam is at the beginning of new journey—one that requires the sure and steady presence of a partner." He looked around the room. He felt more sure of himself. "Partners protect and balance each other. If one falls behind, the other waits—or," he grinned, "comes back and eggs you on. Partners tell you when you're wrong—as well as when you're right. They'll drive you crazy. But when you find one—the right one—you hold on with all your might. Jeremy and Pam have found each other." He raised his glass again. "To the journey, to partners, and to Pam and Jeremy. We wish you well."

All across the room, glasses were raised and clicked. Doyle sat down. May gave him a watery smile and nodded her head. Bodie nudged him with his elbow.

"Where the hell did that all come from?"

Doyle reached again for his wine glass. "Panic." He took a long swallow. "Was it all right?"

"Yeah. I'm going to make a codicil to my will requiring you to give my eulogy."

"Selfish bastard—take all the enjoyment out of it for me, why don't you?" He smiled at Mrs Gorton who was giving him a thumbs up. He wondered how much wine she'd had. "Anyway, what if I go first?"

"Not going to let that happen, am I?'' Doyle looked quickly at Bodie, hearing an underlying note of seriousness in his voice. "Your mother would never forgive me." Bodie grinned.

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Thanks. Friend."

"Oi. It benefits you, doesn't it?"

"I'm not having you as a stepdad. Go and charm someone your own age."

"How about someone two years older?" Bodie's smile was devilish.

"My sister would be delighted."

"Eh?"

"Don't believe all they say about twins."

Bodie's mouth opened. He turned his head and looked at Lucy, then back at Doyle—and he caught on. "Bastard." Doyle laughed. "You had me going there, you know."

"Not going to try it on, then?"

"I value my skin a little more than that."

"Yes, her husband is a large man."

"It's not him I'm afraid of."

About to make a quick retort, Doyle paused. There was that odd serious note in Bodie's voice again. He frowned, about to ask him about it, but Bodie's attention was elsewhere.

"Ah, looks like it's time for that cake you promised me." Bodie rubbed his hands. "And the champagne."

"Are you driving back tonight?"

Bodie looked at him. Doyle caught something in his expression that hit him in the stomach, but then it was gone. "Am I?" Bodie's tone was neutral.

His chest felt tight. "Up to you, mate." He looked away, as if the question was casual.

"Ray—"

_It doesn't matter. It's just us; just the job_. "Come on." He stood, then softened his voice. "Cake, eh?"

They joined in the queue for cake. Doyle received congratulations on his speech; Bodie received covetous looks. "You might have your pick of beds, sunshine."

Bodie glanced at the crowd. "Don't know about that."

The band started playing and Doyle watched as Jeremy led Pam out onto the dance floor. They made a striking couple as they moved gracefully to the music. His throat tightened a little as he watched her.

"Is your arm hurting?"

"Nah." He turned his head and the look in Bodie's eyes reminded him of his own world. _Just us_. "I'm glad you made it here."

Bodie blinked, and his face lost all expression.

Doyle forced himself to grin and lighten the moment. "Saved my life, didn't you?" He handed a plate to Bodie.

"Ah, yes. Does that mean I get your cake?" Bodie reached for a second plate.

"No, you greedy bugger. Hands off. Remember I'm injured."

"Probably bad for you to eat cake, then. And _certainly_ champagne."

Doyle picked up a glass. "Cheers." Doyle toasted him and took a swallow of champagne.

They mingled with the guests as they consumed their cake. Doyle introduced Bodie to Sandra and Debbie, then abandoned them in favour of going to the loo. He was washing his hands when the door opened and Bodie walked in. "Sent you packing already, did they?" He eyed Bodie in the mirror.

"No, Debbie had a slight spill on her dress, courtesy of Sandra. They both went to the loo." Bodie leaned against the door, arms crossed.

"Kinky." Doyle dried his hands then, with a sigh of relief, loosened his tie. He walked towards the door, and raised his eyebrows when Bodie didn't move.

Bodie slowly reached out, cupped the back of Doyle's head, and kissed him.

Desire uncoiled inside Doyle, and built like a fast-moving fire. He opened his mouth, tasted Bodie, leaned closer. But at the sound of a voice in the corridor he jerked back. "Christ, Bodie," he whispered.

"It's your bed I want, Doyle." Bodie's voice was soft but level. His eyes were fixed on Doyle's mouth, then they lifted to meet Doyle's gaze. Doyle couldn't move. The door was suddenly pushed from behind into Bodie's back. Bodie didn't budge.

"You maniac." Doyle kept his voice low. Bodie's gaze didn't waver. "Okay." He turned away, feeling scorched. He heard Bodie move and the door open.

"Sorry about that, mate," Bodie said, his tone normal.

Doyle looked around and saw a man he thought was a friend of Jeremy's father. He nodded at the man and followed Bodie out of the room. Christ. _Just the job_. It bloody well wasn't. He walked back into the reception room beside Bodie. They weren't in London, but he felt as alive as he did there. Dammit, he wasn't going to get off on sodding, dangerous— It was with something close to relief that he saw Pam nearby. He touched Bodie on the arm, indicated Pam, and headed in her direction to claim a dance.

"Let's see how well you taught me," he said as he guided her to the floor. His nerves were settling. He was aware of Bodie's presence, but now it felt something like the effervescence of champagne.

"As long as you don't step on my toes. I remember you!"

He laughed.

She smiled, and her hand tightened on his as they danced. "Thank you, Ray. For everything today. For—"

"I was happy to do it."

She regarded him "You do seem happier now than you were earlier. Glad the speech is over?"

"God, yes." He pulled her closer as they turned. "Be happy," he said softly in her ear.

"And you."

They finished their dance, and he went in search of more champagne, but found his sister instead.

"Is it true?" she asked. "You're in CI5?"

"Fills you with pride, doesn't it?"

"It's the secret police!"

"Not very secret."

"You know what I mean. It's dangerous. You've no supervision, no—"

"We check in regularly." He grabbed Bodie, who was passing on his way towards the champagne table. "Don't we?"

"Eh?" Bodie grinned at Lucy. Doyle was rather pleased to see the smile bounce right off her.

"She's complaining we don't have any supervision."

"She's never met Cowley." Bodie looked at her. "Regular tartar he is—won't let us get away with anything."

Her lips tightened. "It's not right, all this secrecy. CI5 should be shut down—"

"Sssh." Bodie put a finger on her mouth. " _Don't_ say that."

"Wha—?"

"Well, you don't want Doyle to disappear, do you?"

"What?'

"You know." Bodie mimed a gun pointed at Doyle's head. "Twepped." She gaped at him. "Terminate with extreme prejudice. Get rid of him."

"That's ridiculous," she said. Doyle grinned.

"That's what they all say. Ah, well, I tried Ray. More champagne?"

"Ta." He watched Bodie wind his way through the crowd, then set about soothing his sister's ruffled feathers. He thought he succeeded reasonably well, a little surprised that he bothered. But somehow the sport of baiting her had lost most of its lustre. Underneath the disapproval he sensed a genuine concern. He was nevertheless pleased when his mother arrived and sent Lucy to deal with the twins' over-indulgence in cake.

"I'm leaving, Ray," his mother said as she stretched to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it."

"No. You and Pam were always close."

His eye fell on Aunt May, sitting on a chair by the door. "What will May do now that Pam is married?"

"Oh, I think possibly we might move into a small house together."

He stared at her. "You what?"

She shrugged. "Two can live more cheaply than one."

"But—"

"We're used to each other, dear. And we're both alone now. It makes sense."

He frowned. His mother had always prided herself on her independence. "I—" He stopped, at a loss for words.

"People sometimes change as circumstances change." She tilted her head. "You've learned that, haven't you?"

He looked away.

"This job of yours...it's dangerous, isn't it?"

He hesitated, uncertain what to say. "Why do you ask?" _I kill for a living, Mum_. He couldn't tell her.

"Your sister. She's more concerned about you than you think. And...your Bodie. For all his charm, he's very guarded, isn't he?"

"He's...had that kind of life." His eyes sought Bodie.

She touched his cheek. "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked. Come and visit us more often, Ray, will you? Bodie is welcome as well."

He looked at her, startled to realise he wanted to visit her; he wanted to bring Bodie. He nodded, leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Mum."

"Good night, dear."

The band's music changed as the crowd skewed towards youth. Doyle eased to the edge of the room. Bodie was talking with Rose, while both Sandra and Debbie hovered nearby. They weren't threatened by Rose, who was happily married, but they were exchanging narrow-eyed looks with each other. Bodie had been scrupulously even in his attention to the two women. In fact, he had behaved as if Cowley had had his eye on him throughout the day. Anyone would think he was simply a nice, charming man with a bit of the fool about him. Doyle's mother had seen something below the surface, perhaps, and Jeremy had seen him in action. Yet Jeremy, too, had fallen for the act. None of them knew how quickly Bodie's charm could disappear, or how ruthless he could be. They'd expect the loyalty and skill that Doyle depended on, but they had no idea about the necessity of black humour, or the way in which Bodie's very ruthlessness sustained Doyle. Or matched him. _I'm with him_.

Oh, Christ. Sudden comprehension hit him as quickly as it had earlier in the day when Bodie had arrived. He had a place in both worlds—CI5 and here, but only if Bodie was with him. He'd wanted nothing more than to go to back to London, until Bodie had joined him. And then he'd wanted to stay—to dance, to soothe his sister, to reassure his mother. He'd sought independence most of his life, but now he was used to partnership. _When you find one—the right one—you hold on with all your might_. He wanted Bodie—all of him: clown, maniac, charmer, soldier. He wanted the man who always made him laugh, even when he wanted to smash something. He wanted the man who withstood his temper. He wanted the man with the vulnerable core that very few ever glimpsed. He needed Bodie by his side, in whatever world they walked. And he'd stand with Bodie in front of this whole sodding crowd and say it out loud. If Bodie wanted it. _It doesn't matter_. If. Fucking if.

He realised he was staring at the floor. He raised his head, automatically searched for Bodie—and found him walking towards him. Bodie faltered a moment, his brows twitching together, and then he continued on. Doyle took in a shuddering breath. He felt as nervy as before a difficult mission. Concentrate on the essentials. They had to talk. Alone.

"Ready to go?" Bodie asked as he approached.

"Yeah." He looked closely at Bodie and saw the warmth he was used to, but nothing more. Yet it was Bodie who had initiated the kiss earlier, and declared what he wanted. But for how long would he want it? Doyle knew his own nature. It would be better to stop it now, after only a taste, than lose it all when it was an addiction. He walked with Bodie towards the door. "Is your stuff in the Capri?"

"Don't have any."

Doyle raised his eyebrows. "You came up without—?"

Bodie didn't look at him. "Last minute decision."

"I see." He felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. _Just the job. It's just today_. He wanted tomorrow.

They walked up the stairs to Doyle's room side-by-side. He had initiated sex both times. Bodie had responded. Bodie hadn't been shocked; he hadn't been repulsed. In fact, Doyle would bet money Bodie had had sex with men before. But Bodie had also left without waking Doyle after that first night. And he'd offered excuses for the sex the second time. Doyle had been relieved then—confused, perhaps, by his own overwhelming response to Bodie's skill. He knew what Bodie thought of commitment. He remembered his voice: ‘Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you're going to marry her.’ Bodie had said he'd liked Ann, but he'd found Doyle's desire to marry incomprehensible. _It's just the job_. What else did they need? But Doyle couldn't—wouldn't—settle for that. There was some hope—Bodie had come today; he'd kissed Doyle.

They arrived at the room, Doyle unlocked the door, and Bodie following him in. Doyle turned on a lamp and looked at the bed that dominated the room. They'd shared hotel rooms before; they'd never shared a bed. His body fizzed with a combination of nerves and desire. He heard Bodie moving closer behind him.

"Changed your mind?" There was no inflection to Bodie's voice.

"No." He turned and saw a trace of doubt in Bodie's eyes. Oddly, it settled him—like a counterbalance. "I want to have sex with you. I want to spend the night with you." He reached out and put his fingers on Bodie's mouth. He drew his breath in when Bodie touched a finger with his tongue. "But I need...."

Bodie's eyes lifted to his. Oh, yes, Bodie wanted him. "What?"

"We need to talk."

Bodie brought them closer together. "Later." He kissed the side of Doyle's mouth. One hand cradled Doyle's head, the other was on Doyle's waist. When Bodie moved on to his mouth, Doyle revelled in it for a few seconds, and then he pulled away.

"Bodie, I—”

"Been waiting all night, Ray." Bodie pushed Doyle's jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, being careful with the injured one. He kissed him again as he worked on Doyle's shirt buttons. "Forever."

'Yeah, me too." His own hands were busy with Bodie's clothes, revealing skin he hadn't touched, hadn't explored. His senses were overloading on Bodie, just as they had before. Maybe he should just accept it. One night. What would it hurt? Settle for—

"Ow!" Bodie backed up a step. "Dammit Doyle, what'd you do that for?"

"I meant it, Bodie." Doyle's shirt was off, his trousers unzipped, but he had control of himself.

"Talk about what, for chrissake?" Bodie's shirt was open, and Doyle's eyes were drawn to the well-defined muscles and the smooth skin.

"What're we...?" He dragged his gaze up to Bodie's eyes. "What're we—what do you want, Bodie?"

Bodie's eyes flickered. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He moved closer. "You want it, too."

"Yeah, but—" What could he tell him? What the fuck could he tell him? 'I want a future. I want promises.' Christ. How many scenes like that had he walked away from? Bodie had never liked scenes.

Bodie's hand slid around his neck. "There's no problem. It's just us." His voice was soft. It was his partner's voice that had always steadied him.

"We have to think about...the future."

"You think too much." Bodie whispered the words against his mouth, then kissed him. "It feels good, right?"

He was being seduced. He knew it, and Bodie knew it.

"The whole night, Doyle." Bodie's thumb brushed against his nipple. He thrust his groin against Doyle's. "Time."

"Ground rules," he managed to say.

"No rules." Bodie bent his head and sucked on Doyle's nipple. Doyle jerked, and Bodie pulled him closer. "No one needs to know." Bodie lifted his head and a brief smile crossed his face. "We _can_ keep a secret."

And Cowley wouldn't care as long as they kept it like that, in the team. He was losing his focus. "What if we don't?" He closed his eyes, and the sensations Bodie was creating with his hands increased ten fold. His body remembered.

"Can't see either of us announcing it." Bodie's tongue was on him again, and Doyle moaned.

_He'd stand with Bodie in front of this whole sodding crowd, if needed_. If wanted. "Bodie wait." His body was craving contact, burning with the need to push, to take Bodie down on the bed. Oh Christ, he wanted it. But he put his hands on Bodie's head, lifted it so he could meet Bodie's eyes. There was more he needed, wanted— And it felt like his heart stopped a moment as he recognised the emotion behind the desire in Bodie's eyes: fear. He knew that look—he'd seen it sometimes after firefights; he'd seen it when Preston was after him. And he knew that when Bodie blinked, the expression would be gone. It would be hidden where no one could see, not even Doyle.

Bodie broke free of his hold, and took in a breath. "What is it, Ray?" He looked away.

Doyle shook his head, surrendering to the bleak acceptance in his soldier. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." He pulled Bodie into arms, fiercely protective.

He nuzzled Bodie's neck, sucked and bit as Bodie's hands caressed his bare back. It was Bodie who tumbled them into the bed. Doyle wriggled out of his trousers and pants as Bodie undressed. And then Doyle stared at Bodie's cock rising from its nest of black curls, and the power of sleekly muscled thighs. He shivered, and licked his lip, and drew Bodie to him. Let it be. He'd give Bodie anything he wanted. Let it be.

And God it felt good with Bodie pressed against him, covering him. Their cocks rubbed and jumped against each other. He wanted to take Bodie into his mouth, show him how good it had been when Bodie had taken him. He slid his hand down Bodie's back to his bum. He kissed Bodie's chest, and Bodie's fingers tangled in his hair He shifted, wanting to move down, but Bodie wouldn't let him. "Want to suck you," he said. "Show you—"

But Bodie was guiding his head back until they could look at each other. Bodie's mouth was red, his eyes dark. Doyle stayed quiet under his scrutiny, but he rested his hand on Bodie's biceps, and felt the tension there.

"It matters." Bodie's voice was low. "It sodding well matters."

Doyle closed his eyes for a moment. His chest felt constricted. "I want a future," he said, baldly. "You and me."

Bodie looked at him, eyes narrowed, and then he looked down. "Yeah, okay." He kissed and licked Doyle's chest.

"I'm not joking."

Bodie lifted his head and eyed him, and then he followed the progress of his own hand as it roamed over Doyle's chest, down his stomach and to the base of his cock. "I didn't say you were."

Bodie didn't believe him. Doyle wanted to argue with him, force the issue—he knew that easy agreement meant nothing. But he had been partners with Bodie for years, and he knew how to handle this. He forced himself to relax, concentrated on exploring Bodie's body, discovering what touches made him moan or catch his breath.

And it wasn't long before Bodie broke. "When did...you have this revelation?"

Doyle was caught up in the glide of Bodie's cock against his own, slow and sweet. "Today. Tonight."

"I see."

Doyle opened his eyes at the blandly neutral tone in Bodie's voice. "It was a revelation. Something I should have known." Bodie wasn't looking at him. Doyle gasped as his cock was squeezed, then released. He grabbed hold of Bodie's arm. "You don't believe me."

Bodie shrugged. "I do."

"But? Tell me the truth."

Bodie kissed him. "I know you didn't want me here. It was in your face—-when Cowley called me in."

There was no choice but to match him. "No, I didn't." He traced the curve of Bodie's cheekbone. "But I was never more glad to see anyone."

Bodie leaned into Doyle's hand, his eyes closing for a moment. "You were about to lose a fight."

"I missed you long before then."

Bodie looked down. "Maybe. But...what we...have, it's not part of their world." Bodie met his eyes. "I don't belong—and you want to."

"Are you so sure of that?"

"Oh, yeah." Bodie put his fingers on Doyle's face, his touch almost unbearably gentle. "It's why you went after Ann. You've got ties."

"And you haven't?"

Bodie made a sound like a laugh, but he wasn't smiling. "No."

"Except me."

Bodie said nothing.

Doyle traced the contours of Bodie's chest, and smiled a little when he felt him shiver. "Ann would have made my mother very unhappy." He pulled Bodie closer. "You, on the other hand...."

"Ray, it's not—"

"I wouldn't have made it through the speech without you." Doyle looked at him until Bodie looked away. "Never planned to stay through the dancing. Mum wants me to visit, if you'll come. And I might be reconciling with my sister, God help me. It's all your doing."

Bodie shook his head. "Our world and theirs...."

Doyle moved, and pushed Bodie onto his back. He leaned over him. "Yeah, our world and theirs. And do you know what I found out? Everything is better with you. _Everything_." He took Bodie's mouth, then pulled back. "What are you afraid of?"

Bodie's gaze slid away from his.

"Oh, no sunshine." He used his mouth and tongue on Bodie, on his neck and chest, and held him in place when he writhed.

"Christ, Ray," Bodie muttered as Doyle soothed the nipple he'd bitten.

Doyle looked at him. His leg was pressed against Bodie's hard cock. "It's not going to be your show this time." He saw a flicker in Bodie's eyes, and paused, staring at him.

Bodie tried to move, and Doyle automatically blocked any attempted escape. He was thinking back, seeing more clearly than he had before. "It was your show wasn't it?" Bodie tried to roll them, but Doyle lay on top of him, trapped him with his legs and weight. His hands clamped on Bodie's wrists pinned them to the bed above Bodie's head. "Both times. Both fucking time you went for the jugular, didn't you? Drove me out of my mind. But why? You had to know I'd like—" The fear was back in Bodie's eyes. "Bloody hell." And it all made sudden, glorious, infuriating sense to him. "You couldn't help yourself."

Bodie flinched.

"Ah, Bodie...." And he kissed him—kissed him as he hadn't dared before, conveying everything of his own need and vulnerability, reserving nothing. He released his hold on Bodie's wrists and Bodie's arms slowly came round him, and held him, crushed him, as if he'd never let go. When Doyle broke the kiss, Bodie buried his face in Doyle's neck. "You couldn't stay away. It's why you came today, even though you thought I didn't want you here."

"You didn't." Bodie's voice was muffled, but obdurate.

"And then, just to be really convincing that you don't need me, you kissed me. And made me promise to take you to bed."

"Shut up, Doyle."

Doyle grinned. "Make me." And he was ready this time for Bodie's attack, and the surge of desire that was matched and amplified. He wasn't overwhelmed, instead there was a fine sort of control that slid naturally into place and held them in balance. They were in sync; they were partners working for the pleasure of each other. When Doyle went down at last on Bodie, eager to claim him and give him release, he found Bodie copying the move. Bodie was in him as he was in Bodie—their own world, self-contained. Bodie came first, and the sound he made was helpless and exultant at the same time. It pierced Doyle, and triggered his own release. When he was spent, he lay panting with his head on Bodie's stomach. He might never move again, he thought. But Bodie tugged on his shoulder, and Doyle pulled himself around to lie with him, as they had done that first night. Before Bodie's fears had driven him away. "You great daft fool. What were you thinking?" He draped one arm across Bodie's chest and stomach. His head was on Bodie's shoulder.

"Hark at the lad. Who was the one who didn't know his own mind?"

"A momentary aberration. What were you doing—taking what you could get?

Bodie sighed. "Something like that."

"No way to live, mate."

"Oh, I dunno. Left you stunned, didn't I?"

"If you like to think so." He lifted his head and confirmed his suspicion about Bodie's smug look. "Who was it who couldn't help himself, then?"

"Yeah, point."

Doyle settled himself so he could watch Bodie's expressions. "How long?"

Bodie shrugged. But he tightened his hold on Doyle.

"And if I hadn't kissed you?"

"Do we have to analyse everything?"

"Yes." Doyle grinned. "You chose me."

"That was Cowley."

"We'll buy him a round to celebrate, shall we?"

"As long as he doesn't know why."

"Dreamer." He traced a pattern on Bodie's chest. "Answer my question. Why'd you never try it on?"

"Too risky."

"Why?"

"Christ, Doyle." Bodie's hand tightened on him to the point of pain. "You know why."

"It's mutual, Bodie." His voice was steady, sure.

Bodie sighed. "I don't believe in happy endings."

Doyle was still for a moment. "You realise I shall take great pleasure in reminding you of that in thirty years."

"Yeah you would, too. Stubborn git."

"You're the one said I had ties. They're life-long, mate. One with my mother, one with Pam—and about a thousand with you."

Bodie's mouth opened, then closed. "A thousand?"

"Yeah, surprised you don't trip on 'em." He hesitated a moment, and then plunged on. "I told you I wanted a future."

"Look, I'll stay. All right? In your bloody both worlds, if that's what you really want. But—"

"You won't hold your breath waiting for a happy ending?" He nibbled and kissed Bodie's neck, and felt him shiver. "Fair enough." He raised his head and looked Bodie in the eye. "But you'll have to tell me when I should push off." Bodie's expression was easy to read: it wasn't his own staying power Bodie doubted. Doyle smiled. "Oh yeah, thirty years, mate—and you'll never hear the end of it."

"Prove it," Bodie whispered, and kissed him.

End  
 _July 2009_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Discovered at a Wedding challenge on LJ.


End file.
